


Wild Roses

by Necrowmancer



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types, Original Work
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Adventuring Party, Enemies to Lovers, Exophilia, F/M, Human/Monster Romance, Idiots in Love, Opposing Morals, Secret Relationship, Teratophilia, Undead, hero/villain romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:14:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21642013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Necrowmancer/pseuds/Necrowmancer
Summary: Mahrzeleel the Ash Sculptor has slain and battled dozens of adventurers over his three thousand years of undeath. The Brightscars didn't seem any different from any adventuring band he'd faced before - until Mahrzeleel found a growing interest in the team's paladin, Soleryn Dawnforge. To only add to his surprise, Soleryn doesn't immediately reject him upon discovering his infatuation - and now the two find themselves struggling to understand these new feelings, all while hiding their secret relationship from Soleryn's team and other potential enemies. Can a evil lich and a good paladin make their relationship work?
Relationships: Human/Lich, Human/Monster - Relationship, Original Female Character/Original Male Character, Soleryn Dawnforge/Mahrzeleel the Ash Sculptor
Comments: 10
Kudos: 52





	1. Chapter 1

The low din of skeletons slowly moving heaps of earth through the tunnels was finally broken by the thunderous crash of a spell ripping through the guards somewhere further up the tunnel.

Marhzeleel the Ash Sculptor glanced up from the heap of ratty scrolls that littered the equally ratty table he sat in front of, the blue-white pinpoints of energy in his sockets narrowing and brightening at the noise. 

_ Ah, yes. The Brightscars. _

The lich rolled his head back, a slight smile pulling on what little remained of his lips. It was about time they made it this far. With a flick of his wrist, the scrolls he had been pursuing neatly rolled themselves up, securing themselves within their scroll cases before tumbling into his bag. While his belongings rearranged themselves into his satchel, Mahrzeleel snapped up a small golden pocket watch, eyeing the time on its ornate face. Really, he’d anticipated the band of intrepid adventurers to make it to his excavation site a full three hours faster, but it was better late than never. And, if his own calculations were anything to go by, it might give him a perfectly legitimate excuse to bounce out of whatever fight was about to unfold  _ with  _ the artifact his minions were digging for - an added bonus to his day.

There was another loud crash, this time followed by a bellowing roar that echoed down the stone hallway. Mahrzeleel subconsciously ushered a few more of his minions towards the encroaching party, hoping to at least give the illusion that he gave half a rat’s ass about stopping them from reaching the final burial chamber. He supposed he did, to some degree. The amulet on the corpse buried perhaps 150 meters below the fake sarcophagus would be useful to him, if not now in the future, and having it in his grasp from the get go would be rather convenient. But if the so-called ‘Brightscars’ managed to cause enough trouble to prevent his skeletons from digging out the last 2 meters of dirt and the foot or so of stone that separated the actual sarcophagus from being smothered in the earth above, then it wouldn’t be the end of the world. Nothing this group could do would likely be of any actual consequence to him.

The Brightscars weren’t anything particularly special as far as adventuring bands went. Their leader, Alcred Battlefire, was an irritating self-centered human fighter who seemed absolutely  _ certain  _ that his group was destined for greatness. Wynrel, their elven druid, spent most of her time as a bear - and when she wasn’t, she talked so little that Mahrzeleel couldn’t even say that he’d discovered anything  _ interesting  _ about her. Their wizard, a human man named Gradrol Glev, was nothing to boast about - the poor man spent most of his time as the team’s babysitter, and the lack of time spent studying magic was starting to show with each passing battle. Maaeyris Resbellen was more of a pest than an actual threat, as many rogues often where - this young half-elf was no exception. She’d gotten through more of his locks than most had in the past, but even then she was no master thief.

It was Soleryn Dawnforge that kept Mahrzeleel’s interest in the group. 

As it usually was, the woman was the one to lead the push into the next room, making her entry with the loud clamour of a greatsword smashing into another skeleton, sending its dry bones scattering across the ground. After surveying the immediate room, her hazel eyes snapped up to the ledge Marhzeleel was perched on, glaring daggers from the slits of her helmet. A skeleton advanced on her, its sword drawn, and Soleryn sent it crumbling with a rather irritated swing of her sword again. “Mahrzeleel!” She shouted, her voice tinged with angry determination. 

Mahrzeleel’s grin widened slightly. 

In the three thousand years Marhzeleel had pushed and shoved with various bands of adventurers and heroes, this was the first time Mahrzeleel had ever found himself hesitant to do harm to one of his enemies. Really, this was the first time in his three thousand some odd year reign as a lich that Mahrzeleel was certain that he could say that he was  _ smitten  _ over someone. And, of all things, it had taken Soleryn’s sword through his chest to make him realize that he was foolishly head over heels for her. Even while disincorporated, the thought of the woman who managed to slay him, albeit temporarily, made him giddy.

Mahrzeleel was sure he couldn’t find a more far-fetched, wishful dream.

Wynrel burst in behind Soleryn, her tawny fur bristling as she scoped out the room as well. The remainder of Mahrzeleel’s workforce pushed in closer, forming a barrier between the pit being dug at the center of the room and the party. They made no advancement, bringing their weapons up defensively to hold back their enemies from reaching the dig point for as long as possible.

“You’re late,” Mahrzeleel chided, slinging his satchel onto a shoulder. 

“A bold thing to say for someone who hasn’t finished their task,” Soleryn spat, glancing to the hole.

The remaining three party members shuffled in behind Soleryn and Wynrel, shoving past Wynrel’s giant, fuzzy form. Alcred pushed himself to the front, lifting his sword definitely towards Mahrzeleel. “This ends now, lich.”

Mahrzeleel scoffed, leaning back lazily in his chair. He propped his head up on a hand, looking the five of them over. “I imagine that you will get tired of repeating that every time we meet  _ someday _ ,” he replied. “Now, are you five just going to  _ stand  _ there? I will admit, I’m quite willing to accept the extra free time, but I would surely think that it’s against your best interest to indulge me in pointless banter.”

“Wait, we’re not too late?” Gradrol whispered over Soleryn’s shoulder, nervously fixing his glasses as Soleryn rolled her eyes and pushed forward.

Mahrzeleel let out a bark of laughter. “Naive as always,” he chuckled, watching as Soleryn, Alcred and Wynrel pushed forward into the line of skeletons, giving space for Gradrol and Maaeyris to work from behind.

Maaeyris. Mahrzeleel had seen her come into the room, but immediately had stopped paying her any mind. Apparently, that had been a mistake. Something landed within a few centimeters of his head, embedding itself into the dirt with a dull thud. Mahrzeleel idly turned to face it, and was met with the tail end sparks of a fuse. He pulled back sharply, just in time to avoid having a chunk of his face blown off by the small explosive Maaeyris had attached to her arrow. The motion was enough to cause the rotting chair under Mahrzeleel to finally give, one of the chairs snapping under the force. Mahrzeleel cursed to himself as he tumbled over the edge of the small ledge he’d been sitting on, hitting the ground with an ungraceful bounce. Embarrassing.

“‘Ll teach ya,” Maaeyris muttered, loading another bolt onto her crossbow swiftly. “He’s down, Soleryn! Get him!”

Soleryn tried to spot where the lich had fallen through the sea of skeletons, and once she’d pinpointed the mass of royal purple robes on the ground, she unleashed a blinding light that sent the skeletons around her staggering back if they weren’t immediately reduced to ash. 

Mahrzeleel pushed himself up with a forced grunt, straightening himself out before taking a moment to dust his fine robes off and adjust his jewelry.

Soleryn let out a battle cry, not hesitating to take a lunge at him before he had the full chance to prepare himself. A year and a half ago when they’d first met, she would never have dared to attack a foe who looked unarmed and unprepared - but now she knew that even at his most unprepared, Mahrzeleel was  _ always  _ armed and prepared.

Without as much as looking up at her, Mahrzeleel side-stepped Soleryn’s lung, continuing to fumble with a button on the cuff of his sleeve. “Now now, my dear Soleryn, it’s rude to attack a foe when they’re down.

Soleryn turned sharply, using the momentum to make another sharp jab. This time, the blade clipped his side, slicing the fabric. Had he been anything but skin and bones, he had no doubt the blade would have torn through his skin as well. “I’m afraid there are no rules against striking an enemy who refuses to take the fight seriously,” she replied sharply, jabbing again.

Mahrzeleel hissed when the blessed silver blade caught him this time, piercing clear through his side. He finally stopped messing with his clothing, his eyes burning to a furious blue. “Oh, you know I take this  _ plenty  _ serious,” he hissed, feeling the uncomfortable burning sensation of holy magic. Magic of his own flared up in a hand, and he quickly threw it forward, catching Soleryn off guard. She grunted in pain as he forced her back, and to his relief her firm grip on the sword dragged the blade with her as she was sent a few meters back in the direction she’d come. 

The problem of having such a foolish crush on your enemy was dealing with the reality of hurting them. Mahrzeleel aimed to provide a challenge, to fight and send minions after Soleryn and her companions in such a way that they had to fight and truly  _ learn  _ to survive and progress - but he made sure his commands were clear enough that there would be  _ no  _ fatal or serious harm to his paladin. While he couldn’t account for everything, his minions were at least simple enough not to make what would be fatal swings at her, and made sure that she was never where the worst damage could be.

That was much harder to prevent when she was facing him directly.

Mahrzeleel had only gotten a few more feet towards the digging pit when Soleryn caught up with him again. With another battle cry, she charged, just missing getting him in the side again. The greatsword cut just beneath his arm and past his side, and before Mahrzeleel could properly pull away she’d used the position to catch him in the side with the flat of her blade. It wasn’t enough to cut into him, or even to cut his robes, but it did knock him off balance. Marhzeleel cursed, staggering with the sheer force of Soleryn’s shove, before he was met with a cross bolt to the shoulder. The dull impact was enough to knock him full off balance, sending him back onto the ground again. Soleryn wasted no time, standing over him with greatsword gripped tightly in hands. Mahrzeleel threw his weight to the side, narrowly missing getting impaled with the sword as she plunged it down - but she hadn’t totally missed her mark. Mahrzeleel snarled in irritation as he tried to pull himself just a bit further away, only to find that a piece of his robes had been pinned down by the sword. He was jerked back as he tried to stand, leaving him to awkwardly prop himself up on the ground as Soleryn let out a shriek and elbow dropped onto him.

Mahrzeleel was thankful he no longer felt normal pain, because he was certain the force of Soleryn’s large, heavily armored form carelessly slamming into his sternum had broken more than a few ribs. No, he  _ knew  _ it had, because the moment her armored elbow met his chest he heard the sickening  _ snap  _ of bone. The force made his body jerk up forward, but he wasn’t going to let Soleryn get any further. She made a movement to try to grab the front of his robes, her silver dagger clenched tightly in her other hand, but Marhzeleel took her pause to readjust herself as a chance to get his thin, boney hand in one of the few narrow gaps between her armor. His fingers found the soft skin of her neck for a brief moment, before her body froze and went tense. 

Soleryn’s eyes went wide, breath caught in her throat as paralysis immediately made her muscles go rigid.

“Good riddance,” Mahrzeleel grunted with forced irritation, forcing himself to push Soleryn off of him as carelessly as he could manage. He paused once she fell make, making sure she wasn’t hurt before he yanked his robes out from under her sword with the loud tearing of cloth. Mahrzeleel straightened out his crown, looking down at Soleryn’s rigid body with feigned disappointment before striding back towards his destination.

As exhilarating as that was, an actual fight was not the place to get lost in his fantasies. Mahrzeleel extended his hand out, snatching a tarnished bronze and amethyst amulet out of the extended arm of a skeleton the moment it jutted out of the pit. Wynrel let out a bellowing roar, spittle flying from her massive maw as she made a lunge towards him through a line of his bodyguards. Mahrzeleel spun back out of the way, making a soft ‘tsk’ noise as he backed away from the bear.

“Shame. If you’d only given yourselves more time, you might have stopped me,” Mahrzeleel teased, subconsciously calling his skeletons to simply get between him and the adventurers as he tightened his grip around the amulet.

“You won’t get away with this.”

Mahrzeleel glanced to where Soleryn had fallen. Already, she was managing to shake herself out of his spell, struggling to push herself to her feet. Adamant, as always, a trait he admired about her. “I’m afraid you’re already too late,” Mahrzeleel mused, preparing to warp himself out of the grimy dungeon. “Unless another one of your rather  _ useless  _ companions can reach me in the next few moments.”

As Marhzeleel expected, Alcred let out his own battle cry from somewhere between two hulking troll skeletons, trying to lead a charge through them only to be clotheslined by a skeleton with a pole arm that stood behind the trolls. A burst of frost ripped through a few of his bodyguards, cast from somewhere in the back, but still it wasn’t enough to give Wynren an opening - or Maaeyris, wherever the damn girl was.

Blue light danced around Marhzeleel as he chanted the incantations of his spell, magic tingling through his body as he prepared to depart. Shame. He’d been wanting to spend a bit more time messing with them, but they had taken so long that he really couldn’t find a good reason to stick around any longer.

Some of the ice that had encrusted a handful of skeletons cracked, drawing a fragment of Mahrzeleel’s attention just as something came breaking through.

Soleryn.

Mahrzeleel’s eyes narrowed to bright pinpoints of surprise, just in time for her sword to pierce through his chest. The lich let out a sharp snarl, but for Soleryn it wasn’t enough - his spell had been completed. The undead before shimmered in blue light, before he was gone.

With her sword.

Great.

Mahrzeleel drummed his fingers against the countertop, shooting daggers at the long, silver-plated greatsword in front of him. This… this had not been a part of the plan. He hadn't realized that he would be able to teleport something like the blessed sword with him if it had just been stabbed into him, but he supposed if her grip wasn’t tight enough, then there was no reason it wouldn’t. Like any arrow or other projectile, it was embedded in his body, and his body was going to go somewhere else. Apparently, the sword went with him.

The lich pulled away, stroking his beard in thought for a moment before turning away from the display he’d very,  _ very  _ carefully set it on. Any other time, he would have been ecstatic to remove such an important weapon from one of his enemy’s most dangerous members. The holy blade had done enough damage to him before, and had even slain him once, but this wasn’t how things normally went. He didn’t actually want to fully disarm this woman, and he didn’t really want to annihilate the whole party. 

What a bother.

Mahrzeleel paced through rows and rows of pedestals, shelves and counters that had been crammed into his study. Normally, he would simply find a way to dispose of the weapon. Even blessed weapons could be destroyed if he was careful enough. He’d done it before, and one like Soleryn’s would not be easy for her to replace - if she could truly replace it at all. It would encompacitate her for some time, and at least keep her from being at her strongest. There would be little thought about having to store or move the weapon beyond what was needed for its disposal, and that would be the last thought Mahrzeleel would have to give it.

He plopped himself down in an ancient but still plush armchair, sinking into the discolored fabric with irritation as he stared down the crystal ball that sat on the table in front of it. With a flick of his wrist and a few words, the polished surface flickered to life, returning its scrying to his usual subjects of interest.

The Brightscars had hunkered down in their usual location - The Crooked Yew Tavern, a modest establishment in a town not far from where they’d last fought him. Which, as it currently stood, was  _ very  _ far away from where he normally resided. 

Mahrzeleel focused his intent on the spell, idly turning and twisting his view with subtle motions of his hand. 

Soleryn slouched into one of the pub chairs, looking rather disappointed with herself. Alcred wrapped an arm around her shoulders, ignoring her subtle looks of discomfort as he pulled her in close with a playful shake. He held a mug in the other hand, wiggling it as he no doubt said something he  _ thought  _ was reassuring - and based on Soleryn’s lack of response, probably wasn’t. Almost immediately Alcred went back to babbling something to the other members of the party around the table, leaving Soleryn to mope in her seat.

Mahrzeleel waved the image away in displeasure. He hadn’t intended to steal her sword, and getting it back to her was going to be a problem. How was he supposed to come up with a plausible reason for it to be returned to her? He slouched deeper into the seat, staring at the now empty ball of glass as he fiddled mindlessly with his beard again. He couldn’t just leave it somewhere - they knew he wasn’t that clumsy or messy, so the likelihood of him ‘just losing it’ was slim enough that it would look suspicious. They were at least smart enough to know that something like that was likely a trap. Why would he carry it with him anywhere? It wasn’t comfortable for him to touch - he had to use a specially woven and enchanted black cloth to pick it up and move it, and even then he could feel its magic burn at his palms. And to not just destroy it would be foolish on his part. He knew he could destroy it, but perhaps they didn’t. Maybe they would accept him using it as a trading piece, even if he’d think himself daft if he were on their end.

He’d have to figure out what to do with it soon, because the longer Soleryn went without it the longer she was in danger. The weapon was almost a piece of her, and no quickly obtained sword would come close to the damnable blade.  _ Wordslayer,  _ she called it. From what little he’d gathered on it, it was not originally her blade. He was almost certain that it was at least several hundred years old, based off of the style of the blade and the inlays along the blade now that he could get a better look at it when it wasn’t swinging at him with lethal intent. He didn’t have much more information on the blade, though he was certain now that he’d had a better look that he could finally research it properly. But that wasn’t his priority. This sort of blade couldn’t just be replaced, and it made up most of what Soleryn had to offer in way of combat. Even if she were to have another one made, it would not be  _ this  _ blade. The one she was used to, the one that was quite well forged and blessed, and that he was certain had some other properties he had overlooked - and perhaps they had too.

It would be easy enough to put his plans on the backburner, or to make sure he didn’t announce them as loudly as he could to the party like he usually did. Things could get done without them ever knowing it, as they would if he hadn’t taken such an interest in their paladin. But Mahrzeleel wasn’t the only one that had beef with them, and Mahrzeleel wasn’t the only one who’s plans they were meddling in.

Unfortunately, like many adventuring parties Mahrzeleel had met in the past, this group seemed to have the bad habit of sticking their noses into everything, biting off more than they could chew, and making enemies they had no hopes of defeating. There would be times in the past where Mahrzeleel ultimately did not have to be the one to slay them - some other furious being would get to it first, saving him time and effort. And for once, it was not something he was hoping for. If anyone else came after them, or if they decided to go mess with someone else’s plan while Mahrzeleel appeared to be laying low, Soleryn would be in danger.

He glanced over at the sword. The blade glinted in the dim light of distant glowing enchantments, catching what minimal light existed in the recesses of his lair. He supposed he’d just have to bring the damn blade with him and use it as some sort of trading material with them, or find some way for it to ‘accidentally’ end up back in their hands. 

Soleryn nervously eyed the dark halls in front of her. She knew she shouldn’t be off exploring on her own, but she couldn’t sit still. The rest of her party had left her since she’d lost her sword a few days prior. Lost her sword in the lich, of all places. 

‘Oh Sol, you’d be safer if you stayed behind until we got you a new sword, or found your old one!  _ Wordslayer _ is almost a part of you! You just don’t fight as well without it!’

Alcred’s demeaning words made Soleryn’s face sour. He treated it like he just wanted to protect her, but she didn’t need protecting. Even if  _ Wordslayer _ was the sword she’d rather be using, she wasn’t useless without it. A normal claymore would be fine - but Alcred, as the party leader, didn’t think so. So off they went, leaving Soleryn alone to sit in the tavern until they came back from finding wherever this bandit caravan had taken some noble’s daughter.

Well, the claymore would work just fine, but it didn’t feel right in her hands. The wrong weight, the wrong shape. It wasn’t  _ Wordslayer _ . Soleryn prayed there would be some way to get her sword back, but she had no reason to believe she would. She knew that gods forsaken monster had no reason to give it back to her. If anything, she expected for him to try to destroy it. The holy blade was made to slay the undead - destroying it would be in his best intention. It probably wouldn't even be worth holding as ‘hostage’ either.

Soleryn sighed, using the end of the regular iron sword to open up a rotten door. The sword had been a gift from her mentor, and was a holy artifact of her church - aside from the pain of just losing a sword that meant so much to her personally, it would be a blight on her in the eyes of her church. The shame of that made her sick. But there was nothing she could do about that right now. The tavern owner had at least been kind enough to give her something to do while her party was gone - the locals had grown jumpy about an abandoned house at the edge of town, as it was common it seemed, so Soleryn had agreed to go check it out and clear it of anything that could be considered ‘problematic’. So far, it’d been empty - just creepy and dilapidated. Some rich noble’s mansion that had been abandoned some years ago when he’d rather suddenly disappeared. The tavern owner had gone on and on about whatever history the house had, but Soleryn hadn’t honestly been listening. And she was finding it wasn’t relevant. Nothing stood out, and nothing seemed to have actually been there any time recently besides maybe a few beggars and whatever rodents were now living in the overturned furniture. 

So when Soleryn saw a dim blue light around the edge of the door ahead, she paused. Nothing had implied that there was anything in this house prior to now. No signs of ghosts, or any other undead. No signs of people living there recently. No creature that seemed unusual or particularly dangerous. But there was definitely something in the next room. Soleryn slowed, tightening her grip nervously on the hilt of her sword. Taking a deep breath, she pulled on the magic of her deity.

An undead. Just one.

Soleryn’s face paled. Only one undead in a place like this was usually a bad sign. This wasn’t some stray zombie or skeleton. For a moment, Soleryn wondered if she should go back and wait for the rest of the group to return - but she’d come out there to prove she’d be fine, to both herself and to the rest of her team. She could handle this on her own. It was only one undead, and if anyone was able to handle them alone it was her - with or without  _ Wordslayer _ .

Taking a deep breath, Soleryn quietly crept forward, thankful the door was already open. It was a study of some sort from what Soleryn could vaguely make out in the blue light. A old globe, some desks and tables, and a broken display cabinet that had been looted of anything obviously valuable. The ceiling still held, keeping the room secure from the worst of the outdoors, but all of the curtains seemed to be drawn over the windows if there were any. Soleryn edged closer to the edge of the door, cautiously peering around to try to find the source of the blue light around the edge. A dark silhouette, lit awkwardly by the three floating spheres of light that helped to illuminate the ceiling-high bookshelf they stood in front of. It only took Soleryn a moment to realize, with a streak of dread, that the figure was Mahrzeleel.

Mahrzeleel eyed the badly-beaten books on the shelf, dancing his thin fingers across the rotting spines. No, no, no. None of these were the books he’d been looking for. It’d been a long stretch, but there was a chance the old necromancer had kept something of interest before he’d fled his mansion a few decades back. If it had been there, someone who better kept up with the times had already taken it. It wasn’t unusual enough to keep somewhere strange, but many of the copies hadn’t survived recent purges of people who knew what they were looking for. He hummed to himself, pulling another book out to investigate. 

Soleryn remained still. He hadn’t noticed her yet. Soleryn knew she should try to stop him from finding whatever was in these shelves that he might be looking for, but…

Her trail of thought was interrupted as Mahrzeleel shifted, the light shifting just enough for her to catch the metallic flash of something in the shadows against the shelf.

_ Wordslayer _ .

She could recognize her sword anywhere. But why Mahrzeleel had it with him now… She stiffened. Had he known she was here? Had he been expecting her? Her brow furrowed. The blade was sitting in a large bag, and she could make out a few books that looked as battered as the ones on the shelf, so he had at least been planning to take things back with him. Was he looking for a way to destroy the sword…?

Soleryn’s eyes darted back and forth between  _ Wordslayer _ and Mahrzeleel, shifting her weight between her feet. Run? Or retrieve her sword? Run was the only reasonable answer. She could fend for herself, but Mahrzeleel… he was not someone she could face on her own. The team had chased him for five years, and as a group they’d failed to kill him. And if their research was correct, hundreds of adventurers had tried to slay him and had failed. There was no way that she was going to succeed. 

Mahrzeleel put the book back, hooking the next book by its spine before pulling it forward. Instead of catching a good grip on the book, some of the cover and spine had separated, and the bulk of the book fell to the ground. Mahrzeleel cursed under his breath, taking a step back before leaning over to pick it up.

The very edge of Soleryn’s helmet caught the glow of the lights floating around him, and Mahrzeleel spun. Before Soleryn could pull back, an invisible force yanked her forward by her chestplate, dragging her into the center of the room before the rotting door slammed closed behind her. Soleryn stared at the lich with wide-eyes through the grating of her helmet, sword still clutched in one hand while the other was stretched out to keep her balance while she’d been pulled forward.

For a moment, the two of them stared at each other.

“Soleryn Dawnforge,” Mahrzeleel reveled, slowly stepping forward to the railing that separated the elevated shelving and the base floor below. “Now, what might you be doing around in a place like this, hm?” He glanced towards the door, drumming his fingers against the wood railing before glancing back, his blue eyes burning in the darkness as the lights cast him in an eerie silhouette. “Alone, no less. Curious. Out here looking for trouble, my dear?”

Soleryn’s lips drew into a thin line, taking a deep breath. She couldn’t back out now. She took a step back to make sure she was free of Mahrzeleel’s spell, before she took a deep breath and raised her sword. “I want my blade back, monster,” she demanded steadily, tilting her chin up.

Mahrzeleel tilted his head. “I would imagine so. You seem out of your depth with that one - or uncomfortable, at least. Like a fish out of water,” he mused, waving his hand idly at the simple blade she was straining to hold up in one hand. He pulled it back and forth with his magic with ease, no longer deterred from messing with it without the copious amount of protection  _ Wordslayer _ had.

Soleryn kept the blade tightly in her grasp, struggling to keep it fairly centered and in one hand while he toyed with her. “You have it with you. So surely, you must have been expecting me, or why else would you have it with you?”

The tattered corner of the lich’s mouth twitched, and the fires in his socket contracted to tiny, vivid points of light.

He had had it with him because he’d been trying to figure out how to give it back to her without making it… suspicious. He’d been hoping to set some convoluted plot up involving the house in hopes that it might seem like the blade had been stolen from him by… oh, who knew, maybe a would-be necromancer or something. But apparently, that wasn’t going to be how this went.

And Soleryn being here had caught him fully unprepared and fully off guard.

The lich pulled back stiffly, turning with the billow of his robes as he strode towards the bag. Soleryn watched in tense anticipation as he grabbed a length of black cloth out of his cloak and grabbed the sword by the handle, removing it from the bag before standing in front of the railing again. The lich turned the blade over in the dim ghostfire, looking rather thoughtful as the blessed silver reflected the light back over his sullen features. He cocked his head to the side, a few strands of white hair falling out of his hood. “I dare say you wouldn’t believe me if I told you the truth, Miss Dawnforge. Truth is stranger than fiction so I’ve heard.” He shifted the blade, tossing it up only briefly so he could catch it with the cloth by the blade. In a very fluid motion, he slid his grip along the ridiculous length of the sword until he was holding it by the tip, handle extended out to Soleryn. The lich folded his other arm behind him, staring down expectantly at Soleryn. He said nothing more, simply wiggling the blade for her to retrieve it.

Soleryn looked between the sword’s hilt and the lich’s face. There was no readable expression on the undead - just a very intense stare. She gritted her teeth. There was no way this wasn’t a trap. Mahrzeleel had no reason to offer the blade back, no matter what he said - there was no reason for her to simply believe that. She took a step forward cautiously, but the lich didn’t move. Instead, he stood statue still, not even swayed by the usual subtle movements of breathing and life. Cold, and still. Soleryn cautiously looked at the pommel. It looked like her blade, but there was a chance it wasn’t. The realization that this could be a trick to get her to accept a cursed blade or something was seeming more and more like a likely option. After a moment of staring at the blade, she took a step back.

“And how to I know this is my blade?”

Mahrzeelel seemed mildly taken aback. The lich tucked his chin in for a moment, before mimicking an exaggerated sigh. “Do you not know your own weapon? Why else do you think I would go through the lengths not to touch this wretched piece of metal?” Mahrzeleel scoffed, sweeping his free hand over the enchanted length of fabric he was struggling to clutch the blade with. If he hadn’t been undead, he was sure that his hand would be cramping by now - but even if it wasn’t, he could feel the blade slowly slip in the velvet texture of the cloth. If Soleryn didn’t take her damn sword back soon, he was going to drop it, and he was going to look like an idiot.

Soleryn narrowed her eyes, thrusting her lower lip forward. “Do you think me a fool?” She snapped. “You’ve made a duplicate and you’ve cursed it,” she insisted, throwing her free hand up as she took another step back.

Mahrzeleel’s brow furrowed slightly. “I have not!” he snapped rather quickly, which had clearly caught Soleryn by surprise. Biting his own tongue, he straightened his back out and adjusted the sword again, making sure he had a good grip on it before he extended his hand. Silently, he cursed himself before he reached out and ran his fingers along the edge of the blade. His skin immediately hissed, causing him to yank his hand back as metaphysical pain jolted through his body. Curling his damaged fingers tightly into his fist, he hid his hand back behind his body again before extending the sword back to Soleryn. “See? Is that enough proof for you?” he huffed, trying to hide his discomfort. As much as he hated to admit it, the blessing on the blade hurt. Even the small knicks it gave him burned far more than almost any other artifact he’d been hit with before.

Soleryn watched in surprise. If Mahrzeleel was faking the damage, he was doing a very convincing job. She doubted it was just acid on the edge of the blade - it seemed genuinely like holy damage. But if it really was  _ Wordslayer _ … why was he giving it back to her?

Deciding to bite the bullet, she leaned forward again, yanking the blade out of his hand before quickly stepping away from him. She almost pulled him over the edge of the balcony with the sudden movement, and Mahrzeleel had to catch himself on the railing. Scoffing, he pulled back, shaking the cloth out before tucking it back into his robe and turning to face the shelves again. “Now, I’ve done you a favor by returning your sword. If you would be so kind to return it by leaving me to my-”

Soleryn sprinted towards the small rise, using a small desk to jump up before she used the sturdiest stretch of railing to pull herself up onto the rise. The railing snapped under the force, but it was enough to get her onto the platform, and before Mahrzeleel could finish his sentence Soleryn was upon him. She shoved him back into the bookshelf,  _ Wordslayer _ raised to press into his chest as she pinned him against the moldering books. The lich stared at her in shock, eyes tiny pinpoints as his jaw hung slightly open in both surprise and a sharp snarl. A hiss left him as the blade pressed into his neck, burning into his skin. Soleryn gave him a firm, determined look under her helmet.

But to her surprise, he looked… Scared? Genuinely surprised? The look on what remained of his face was not what she’d been expecting. Soleryn hesitated, adjusting herself to keep the lich pinned under her heavy plate armor. Mahrzeleel tried to tilted his head away in discomfort, one of his hands reaching out to grip her gloved hand to try to push the sword back.

“Having second thoughts?” He chuckled, though the strain in his voice betrayed his frayed nerves. “You won’t really destroy me if you slay me now. You know that - it wouldn’t be the first time, after all.”

Soleryn furrowed her brow, scanning Mahrzeleel’s features. Was he… smiling? Closing her eyes for a moment, she released one hand from the sword, reaching up to pull her helmet off before dropping it next to her. The lich watched as she pushed her wavy blond hair out of her face before she returned to gripping the sword, hazel eyes glinting in the blue light. “Why did you have my sword?” 

Mahrzeleel’s head pulled back a bit into the books, doing his best to tilt his head with what little room Soleryn was giving him to maneuver. A long pause fell between the two. He could feel Soleryn’s body shift against his dead still one, trying to keep him pinned while clearly trying to keep her courage to face him alone like this. There had been plenty of times he could have gotten out of her grip, and he figured she knew that - but the fact that he hadn’t had, perhaps, only made her more unnerved. Soleryn wasn’t a fool - she knew he was playing at something, and it had her on edge.

Finally the lich forced a hollow, pointless sigh. “Do you really want to know?” he questioned, giving her a rather deadpan and defeated look. 

The response had Soleryn pulling her head back a bit in confusion, face scrunching. “Yes. I do,” she replied hesitantly, tightening her grip on her sword.

It wasn’t like she was going to believe him anyways, and she already knew full well what he had been saying was bullshit. The lich decided to roll the dice. What was the point of being immortal, he supposed, if you didn’t take a risk every once in awhile? Even if you were playing with your heart?

“I’m infatuated by you.”

Soleryn stared, before blinking. She turned her head in a questioning movement like she wanted him to elaborate. 

Sighing again to get the point across, Mahrzeleel idly tried to turn his face away noncommittally as he tried not to stare directly at the very rather confused and judgemental eyes of the woman he was attracted to, who no doubt was currently wondering what she’d done to bring such a curse as the attraction of her lich enemy.

“I was trying to find a way to return your sword to you. I was making some way to trick you into coming out here to find it in some way that didn’t look like I was giving it back to you,” he scoffed, trying to shrug it off even if it was making him feel anxious to say that.

“What?” Soleryn almost hissed, only looking more confused.

Mahrzeleel uncomfortably tried to shift again, gritting his teeth as  _ Wordslayer _ dug deeper into his neck from his movement and what was likely Soleryn unintentionally leaning into him more. “I’m attracted to you! For the past… oh, what has it been for you… three years, perhaps…? Everything I’ve been doing involving you and the rest of the Brightscars has been a hoax. I’ve just been looking for excuses to see you. There hasn’t been any ‘grand plan to rule the kingdom’ or anything. I’ve just…” the lich shrunk in slightly on himself, “...I’ve just been finding excuses to see you. That’s it.”

Frankly, Mahrzeleel was surprised she hadn’t just severed his head from his shoulders at that point, but the look she had on her face was largely what he expected - a look of shock and confusion. Wide eyes, mouth ajar, maybe the subtle look of disgust. Why wouldn’t she? She had every right to. A lovely, righteous paladin like herself who’d spent her entire life learning to hate the undead should probably be mortified by the idea of an evil necromancer and lich being attracted to her. He readied himself for the next part - the look of anger, some slew of insults and maybe talk about righteousness, maybe her finally disencorperating him again so he could get out of this situation and return to his lair where he could skulk about this and wonder where he’d let his life fall to.

But she didn’t.

For a moment, she began to lower the blade before immediately bringing it up again. The look of confusion and internal realization broke away to determination again. “You’re lying,” she spat, the anger now taking over his face. But it wasn’t quite the sort of anger he’d been anticipating.

“I told you that you wouldn’t believe me,” he replied simply, giving her a feeble shrug.

Soleryen looked around, before awkwardly adjusting how she was holding  _ Wordslayer _ and how she was pinning him. The lich watched as she fumbled for something in the front of her armor, before she removed the holy symbol from around her neck. He pulled his head back in mild surprise, before trying to shrink back more as she tried to push the symbol towards him. “Swear it. Tell me that again, Neryn and all the gods above, be my guides and tell me of this foul beast’s lies.”

The symbol glowed as she pressed it up against his cheek, relieved at least that it wasn’t burning him as she held him under duress. “Soleryn Dawnforge, I, Mahrzeleel the Ash Sculptor, truly and honestly have interest in you. All of my plans as of recent have just been to indulge my infatuation with you, because I know full well you have no earthly reason to entertain this old lich’s interests,” Mahrzeleel said almost bitterly, knowing how rather foolish he was sounding. But it was true, and the light around the holy symbol did not change. After a moment, it disappeared, and with a stiff movement Soleryn pulled it away - along with the sword, and the rest of her body. She stared at him in perhaps more shock than when he’d first said it, backing into the railing where she stopped.

Mahrzeleel straightened himself out, rubbing his neck where the sword had been pressed. He turned, moving to grab his bag off the ground with a stiff movement.

The look Mahrzeleel gave her made her insides turn. Was it… humiliation? Soleryn finally snapped her mouth shut, gripping her holy symbol and its chain to her chest as she watched the lich grab a few of his things, clearly intending to leave. 

What he had said was truth. He was apparently in love with her. And suddenly, that changed a lot of things. And suddenly, a lot of things made sense. His plans. His actions. Their battles and every interaction… Seeing it through the light of infatuation, it made a different kind of sense.

And Mahrzeleel, unlike many others she’d encountered, at least seemed like he understood how she should react to that. Mortified. Rejecting. And she should.

But instead of trying to attack him, or letting him leave, she reached out and grabbed the sleeve of his robe.

Mahrzeleel stiffened, not fully turning his head to look at her. She could catch the very edge of the ghostly light in his sockets, but she didn’t try to tug him further. An uncomfortable, tense silence fell as Soleryn whetted her lips and looked at the ground, trying to find the right words, the right feelings. She didn’t know how to feel about this. She didn’t know what she wanted to do about this. But she did know one thing.

She did not feel disgusted, and she did not feel angry.

Slowly, Soleryn took a deep breath, her eyes looking back to him. “Please… give me a few days,” she said carefully, her voice low. “I need… time to think. It’s… it’s a lot. All of this.” Mahrzeleel said nothing, statue still as always. Soleryn at least accepted that as a sign to continue. “The rest won’t be back for a few days anyways, even though i’m sure you know that,” she managed, giving a weak chuckle. “So… I’ll think about it. And maybe we could… talk… about this again. If you… if you’re being truthful.” Slowly, she let go of his sleeve.

Mahrzeleel turned to fully look at her. He looked surprised. She hadn’t… rejected him? She was… potentially open to his advances? A very rather foreign emotion swelled in his empty chest as he looked at Soleryn’s surprisingly timid look. The woman nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, gaze cast to the ground as she gripped  _ Wordslayer _ in her other hand, resting the point against the ground. Slowly, the lich nodded. “...A few days then,” he repeated, a tinge of hope in his quiet voice. “I will send you a message with a place to meet. Until then…” He hesitated, before giving her a sweeping bow. “...I do hope you enjoy your sword again. Do remind your companions that you are fully capable with it. Besides, how else could you have gotten it back from the necromancer living here?” Mahrzeleel questioned, the hint of a smile on his thin features.

Soleryn looked at him in mild confusion, before he snapped his fingers. A few things shuffled further in the library, causing her to spin. Undead. Mahrzeleel must have set them up before she’d arrived. But instead of shambling to attack, they all simply collapsed, the energy leaving them. She spun to look back at the lich, but he was gone. Soleryn stared at where he’d been standing, her heart pounding in her chest.

For the first time, Soleryn wondered if she’d actually be excited to see him again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Staying inside and having free time has not contributed to my motivation and has definitely not outweighed the crippling depression of graduating college into state-mandated confinement and the prospect of losing my first job before I can even start it.  
> Here's a chapter though let's see if we can put this quarantine to SOME use. Stay safe ya'll!

It felt strange to be back at the ruins where they’d fought Mahrzeleel several months earlier. It was only one of the  _ many  _ places the Brightscars and the Ash Sculptor had encountered each other, but it was probably one of the closest ones to where they were currently stationed, and one of the few that Soleryn at least didn’t feel like was  _ immediately  _ threatening to be in alone.

_ What was she thinking? _

Earlier the prior morning when she’d gotten up and left her room to grab a morning bite from the inn’s tavern, the owner had handed her a sealed envelope that had been delivered to him with the morning’s mail. A very neat, crisp white envelope with a lovely dark purple wax seal on the back that was imprinted with the symbol of a crown wreathed in fire - a motif Soleryn immediately recognized from earlier research on the lich. She’d been tempted to just chuck the envelope into the fireplace the second she returned to her room, but instead she’d sat down and carefully opened it.

Unsurprisingly, the letter inside was written in impeccable script with some sort of black ink that carried traces of gold with it. The handwriting was perhaps even bordering  _ unreadable _ , though Soleryn wasn’t sure if it was as much because it was  _ ornate  _ or if it was more that it was… old-fashioned. 

_ Dear Soleryn Dawnforge, _

_ I am writing to you with information disclosed about the location of our next meeting, assuming you are still open to such. I will keep the details short, should this letter fall into the hands of someone other than you. You shall find me where we met four months prior, south of the turngate, in a grove of five trees.  _

_ If, perhance, you have considered my request since we last met and have decided against entertaining this, you need not respond, nor do you need to meet with me. Your absence will be enough, and I will leave you be. I will wrap up the loose ends on my business with you and your cohorts, and bother you no longer. _

_ With regards and the greatest anticipation, _

_ M _

Soleryn tightened her grip around a dagger on her belt. She could have chosen to ignore his request. She could choose not to show up, and maybe Mahrzeleel would finally leave the party alone. It wasn’t defeating him, no, but it would mean one less enemy on their plate - if she could even  _ call  _ him that now. The knowledge that most of their interactions over the past few years had just been a ruse as an excuse for the lich to see her really changed the dynamics of things, even without the rest of the group knowing. If they knew that he’d been doing that, what would they think? Would they want her to make him leave them alone? 

There were so many questions Soleryn had, and none of them had answers. The past few days had been filled with restless sleep and an endless amount of musing, searching for her reasoning behind her feelings and for the potential outcomes of her options. 

She knew there was a  _ right  _ option to this dilemma: use this as an opportunity to slay Mahrzeleel, once and for all. Get close, find his weakness, and destroy his phylactery. Rid the world from his evil, and finish what so many others had started and failed to end. But that option made her heart twist and to stick in the back of her throat. Why, she couldn’t say. By all means, he was an evil undead who had done terrible things in the past - and before, she  _ had  _ been all for destroying him.

_ Why had this confession been enough for her to feel differently? _

Soleryn nervously looked over her shoulder. The road was quite - gloomy clouds hung overhead, and while it hadn’t started raining most people would probably decide to hang back on traveling if at all possible. The roads out to this part of the countryside were rarely used anyways - little existed out there anymore for people to visit. On an overgrown offshoot of the main road was a trail that led back to the almost completely overgrown ruins of an old castle - one they had been led to that Mahrzeleel was raiding. At the time, the group had thought the lich was digging up some terrible artifact, but now Soleryn was questioning the validity of that. For all she knew now, maybe it was just a completely mundane circlet that he’d pulled up off of one of the dusty corpses in the catacombs below the castle. Besides being rather out of the way though, the castle ruins weren’t particularly dangerous - everything that had been a danger to the Brightscars had been summoned and animated by Mahrzeleel, and the castle otherwise was rather peaceful and quiet. She supposed it hadn’t been a terrible location to pick for a rendezvous with her enemy.

_ What was she doing? _

Even though nothing unusual had happened by the time Soleryn had passed under the remains of the castle entry to enter the general yard around the building’s crumbling remains, she remained on edge. She was alone against one of their greatest enemies, trusting his word that he would not harm her. Why he’d wait till  _ now  _ to do so instead of slaying her back at the mansion when she didn’t have her sword, she didn’t know, but it didn’t quell her unease. She’d worn her armor and taken  _ Wordslayer  _ with her when she left - perhaps it was rude of her, but right now she wasn’t about to take that kind of risk. 

As if just coming alone here wasn’t a risk enough.

Mahrzeleel stood up on a section of raised building that had likely once been the second story of one of the buildings, though only a few parts of the wall and the floor remained at this point. Soleryn slowed as she approached, scanning the courtyard around her. He seemed to be alone, but she knew he was quite talented at hiding his minions - and the castle had more than enough hiding places. Between the clouds and the crowded forest canopy that had grown to cover most of the sky since the castle was abandoned, the area was dimly lit. Gods knew Mahrzeleel used the darkness to his advantage, and that the undead did particularly well out of line of the light. She could see the dim orange glow of candles somewhere behind Mahrzeleel though, and she hoped they weren’t lit for any unfortunate scenarios.

“You decided to come after all,” Mahrzeleel said thoughtfully as Soleryn came to a stop a few meters out from the edge of the building.

Soleryn swallowed, taking a deep breath as she looked up at the lich. “I did. Against my better judgement, perhaps, but I did.” She took another nervous glance around the courtyard. Nothing had changed, but the feeling that things were lurking just outside of her vision in the shadows hadn’t faded. “I hope you won’t do anything to make me regret that choice.”

Mahrzeleel chuckled dryly, a slight smile curling up onto the edges of his thin lips. “No, I should think not. Or at least I  _ hope  _ not. If I make you regret your decision to come here, then I’ve failed quite miserably to be your host, haven’t I?” 

While his tone seemed genuinely light, it didn’t ease Soleryn’s uncertainty. “I think your ability to act as a host is the least of my concerns right now,” Soleryn admitted stiffly, trying not to sound as aggressive about it as she felt.

Mahrzeleel’s smile faded, and the pinpoints of his eyes shrunk to small, bright orbs of icy light. “Then hopefully this time I can show you that I truly mean my word when I say that I will bring you no harm, so that next time my ability to be a host  _ might  _ be your biggest concern instead.” With a wave of his hand, a dim blue glow surrounded the edges of some of the collapsed rubble before the moss-covered stone formed a staircase up to the second floor. The lich bowed before making an inviting motion to Soleryn. “If you do not mind still, I have set a table up here - Unless you would rather we converse at a distance.”

Soleryn pursed her lips. Even though Soleryn did not immediately move, Mahrzeleel remained deathly still, bent over into a graceful bow with no concern for how long he might have to stay like that. 

She’d come all this way, there was no point in following through with it. Taking a deep breath, Soleryn stepped forward, carefully making her way up the stairs. Mahrzeleel didn’t move until she reached the top stair, and only then did he straighten himself out just enough to see her.

A large wood table had been set up in the middle of the remains of the room, with a chair set on either side. A expansive purple tablecloth with golden embroidery had been draped over the table’s surface, and a full set of gorgeous silver cutlery had been set up on top of that, complete with a very wide selection of foods. Soleryn noted that only one side of the table had a plate and goblet - the side Soleryn assumed she was meant to sit on. The table was illuminated by a handful of candles balanced on top of a candlestick at the center of the table, with a few more set up here and there on the rubble around them. 

Soleryn stopped once her feet were placed safely on the edge of the building. She wasn’t quite sure what she was expecting, but somehow it wasn’t… this. She’d noted that Mahrzeleel was wearing a nicer robe than usual, but perhaps she’d underestimated what extent he’d go to for this first meeting. 

“Do you dislike it?”

Soleryn looked at Mahrzeleel in surprise, jumping a bit as his voice broke her train of thought. She swiftly looked back and forth between the table and the lich before shaking her head. “No, no,” she said quickly, looking down awkwardly. “It’s- it’s not that at all. I’m just… surprised is all,” she admitted. 

“Surprised?” Mahrzeleel questioned.

Oh, now she was being rude. Soleryn found herself mentally scrambling for how to put her words together, taking a step away from the lich. “I- well-” she stammered, the words sticking in her throat. She looked back to the table, suddenly feeling embarrassed and foolish by her immediate blunder. “I didn’t think it would be this nice,” she finally muttered, reaching up to adjust her helmet’s visor in an attempt to hide her face.

Mahrzeleel walked past her, his robes stirring a few of the dry leaves around their feet as he made his way to the unplated side of the table. “Well, I could hardly expect you to believe that I was serious about all of this if I invited you to a pit to dine with me at a half-broken table with overturned crates as chairs, can I?” Mahrzeleel questioned with a gentle chuckle. “I know this castle isn’t…  _ high end _ , but I figured that you would be more at ease somewhere you were at least somewhat familiar with, and somewhere close to where you were already at.” The lich sat down at his seat, motioning to the seat across from him. “I hope you can understand. While I may be able to bring quite a bit with me, I’m afraid I cannot summon an entire palace with a snap of my fingers without more time and a few more of my minions,” he admitted.

Soleryn slowly shuffled to the opposite seat, taking a moment to remove her helm and her sword. 

Mahrzeleel watched as she shook out her wavy hair, folding his hands in front of him patiently for the paladin to settle down. His gaze shifted to her sword for a moment. She’d brought  _ Wordslayer  _ as he’d expected. He would have been concerned if she wasn’t being cautious about this meeting. Normally he might have been offended by the fact that she’d worn her full armor and brought her sword to their meeting, but under these circumstances he would have thought her daft if she hadn’t. Soleryn hung  _ Wordslayer  _ on one of the back pegs of the chair. She wanted it close in case things went poorly - and in case she couldn’t reach it in time, she kept both daggers on her belt equipped as she sat down. 

For a moment, uncomfortable silence fell between the two. Soleryn shifted in her seat, trying to ignore the general discomfort of trying to relax in full plate. She tried not to pay attention to Mahrzeleel’s unwavering gaze, instead choosing to look over what had been put on the table. A handful of meats, a variety of fruits, bread, a few exotic pastries. Everything seemed fresh and of the highest quality - the sort of things she’d seen royalty eat and that she’d only had when the Brightscars had been invited to a banquet with the nobility of another kingdom a few years prior. Except instead of for many people, it had been set up with the intention of being just for her. The bottle of wine that sat on the table alone probably cost more than she’d made in the last year, and any individual piece of silverware could have easily paid for a month’s rent at their inn.

Suddenly, Soleryn felt very small and insignificant. She unconsciously shrunk in on herself, making her armor click together as her shoulders slouched. 

“This… is very uncomfortable for you, isn’t it?”

Soleryn jerked her head up to look at Mahrzeleel. His brow was furrowed, and a slight frown tugged at the corners of his lips. He slid his thin fingers together, knitting and unknitting them a few times in what seemed to be a mix of thought and nervousness. 

“If you wish to leave, I understand,” he followed quickly, looking down at the table. “I will take no offense to it. I knew a week might not be enough for you to find your mind on this matter, but I thought that perhaps…” He trailed off, fumbling momentarily with one of the ornate gold rings on his fingers.

To see the lich in such a genuinely distraught mood was unusual. In all their meetings before, Mahrzeleel had always been calm and collected - every part the smooth, intelligent and deadly foe that one would expect from him. Never had he shown fear or uncertainty when he faced them, even when they had defeated him - even far back when Soleryn was  _ certain  _ that he had not been interested in her yet. 

Any remaining doubt that this was a ruse melted away.

“No,” Soleryn said again, closing her eyes tightly for a moment. “I… don’t… want to leave. This is just… a lot for me to take in, as you may understand,” she said, trying not to let her voice waver.

Mahrzeleel went still again, glancing up at her. Slowly, he straightened himself out again, regaining his composure. “In fairness, most in your position would have fled long ago, if they had the courage to come at all,” Mahrzeleel finally said, forcing a stiff laugh. 

Soleryn tried to smile weakly. “I also guess that i’m just not used to this sort of…” She looked at the table, “...treatment.”

Mahrzeleel slowly laced his fingers together again, resting them flat on the table in front of him. He cocked his head to the side. “May I ask what you mean by that?”

The paladin reached up and nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I guess I can’t say that any of my other suitors have ever put in this much money and effort into a… well, I suppose a  _ date  _ like this.” She cleared her throat uncomfortably. Gods, was this a  _ date?  _ She tried not to make eye contact with the near-skeletal face across from her. Even in much finer robes, Mahrzeleel did not look  _ human.  _ His thin, gaunt form hunched inhumanly over the table, gold rings loosely sitting on almost skeletal fingers, ghostly white hair falling like thin gossamer from under his recently-polished crown. Even without their usual glow of ire and aggression, the spheres of light in his empty sockets only radiated an unnatural coldness, and the very air around him was saturated with the twisted dark magic of necromancy. 

Mahrzeleel reached up and stroked his beard for a moment. “I’m afraid i’m unsure if I should be worried if I have overdone it, or if your other suitors simply do not treat you as you deserve. Or, perhaps, my notion of what constitutes  _ courting  _ these days is very painfully outdated.” 

She could tell that he meant the question seriously, but Soleryn appreciated the rather teasing musing to his tone. She furrowed her brow for a moment, contemplating his question. She stared at her reflection in the well-polished silver of the plate in front of her. 

Overdone? Maybe. It wasn’t the most  _ elaborate  _ thing he could have done, no doubt, but it was certainly quite fancy for the situation - especially given that he wasn’t even certain that she’d show in the first place. But that definitely gave her the impression that Mahrzeleel was very serious about this - if she was willing to show, he seemed to want to show her how interested he was. It was better than anyone else had done.

It was way better than anything Alcred had done.

_ Alcred. _

Soleryn took a deep breath, before looking to the lich again. Mahrzeleel waited patiently as Soleryn struggled to find the words, lips pursed and brow furrowed. “If… this  _ is  _ to go anywhere…” Soleryn began, carefully trying to choose her words, “my team… will not approve of it.”

Mahrzeleel’s eyes softened a bit, before he slowly gave a nod. “As I expected. I… would have no doubt that this would have to remain a secret. I doubted that your party would be particularly  _ approving  _ of you having any sort of  _ friendly  _ relationship with one of your enemies, nor do I imagine your… church… would be particularly pleased.”

Soleryn’s throat tightened, before she shook her head. “No. They wouldn’t be.”

Mahrzeleel studied Soleryn. “Would you be willing to risk that? I understand that Neryn teaches disdain for the undead and destruction of evil. Would you be willing to put that at stake for this? Knowing full well that it may not work out? That the repercussions for fraternizing with me may very well continue even if we were to go our separate ways?”

Soleryn’s fingers pressed against the metal of her armor, gripping her knees tightly as she studied Mahrzeleel in return. She’d pondered that over the last few days in depth. And she still had not reached a solid conclusion. Her jaw tensed, scanning Mahrzeleel’s face. He was watching her carefully, with a serious, stern gaze. “You know that Alcred… Alcred and I…” she began, avoiding a direct response to his question. 

Mahrzeleel’s eyes drew to bright pinpoints, but he waited for Soleryn to finish what she was saying. 

Were they  _ together?  _

No.

Alcred had never formerly requested to court her, or to be in a relationship with her. He simply  _ assumed  _ it, and Soleryn was too afraid to correct him or push back anymore. She picked at a loose fiber on the edge of the tablecloth, trying to find the words. It was against her beliefs and her morals to be unfaithful, but her relationship with Alcred was complicated. She knew she was already going against her beliefs and morals to even be entertaining entering any sort of relationship with a lich, and while  _ cheating  _ might certainly be considered the least heretical thing of the three, she didn’t want to add it to the list either. 

“Do you… prefer him?” Mahrzeleel finally asked when Soleryn’s struggle finally got to him.

Soleryn looked at him in bewilderment. “Gods,  _ no! _ ” she exclaimed, before slapping a hand over her mouth at her remark. She closed her eyes before hanging her head, shaking it as she rubbed her brow. “I mean- no, I don’t particularly  _ prefer  _ him I just…” 

Oh, that had come out far too fast and far too honestly for her.

Mahrzeleel forced back a chuckle. “You never seemed fond of his approaches.”

Soleryn began to shake her head. “No, I-” She paused, pushing her hair back with one hand before suddenly straightening herself out. “Wait, how would  _ you  _ know that?”

Mahrzeleel’s expression suddenly went flat. “I gathered it from our encounters,” he replied swiftly.

“You’ve been scrying on us, haven’t you!” Soleryn exclaimed in disbelief.

Mahrzeleel rolled his eyes, resorting to slouching back in his chair a bit. “Did you expect me not to?”

Soleryn folded her arms across her chest, giving the lich a stunned look. “How long have you been spying on us? Do you watch everything we do?” She paused, before her face turned scarlet in embarrassment and growing rage. “Have you been scrying on me at all times? H-have you been watching me  _ bathe? _ ” Soleryn almost shrieked, slamming her hands on the table hard enough to rattle everything.

Mahrzeleel stiffened. “What? No!” He snapped back, sitting up as well before leaning forward. He pointed a knobbly finger towards her. “I have watched a  _ great  _ amount of what your little band is up to, but I have done no such thing! In fact, I have tried very hard to avoid catching  _ any  _ of you doing…” He waved his hands, face contorting, “...anything of that nature!”

Soleryn huffed, face beet red. “How am I supposed to believe you? How much do you know about what we’re doing!?”

He gave a hard shrug. “I can’t make you believe me, but what I’m saying is the truth. I absolutely  _ could  _ watch you, but what sort of person would that make me?” he chided. “And most things. Your group isn’t exactly  _ subtle  _ I’m afraid, and your wizard hardly knows how to block scrying at my level.”

“What kind of  _ person  _ would that make you?” Soleryn scoffed, getting worked up. “You’re a lich! An evil lich king who uses necromancy and did all sorts of horrible things and…” Soleryn trailed off, her face suddenly going pale. Mahrzeleel leaned back in his seat, his expression falling flat again. Slowly, Soleryn sat back down in her seat, looking down at the table as she pushed some of her hair out of her face. She’d gotten a little too wrapped up, and went a little too far. “I… excuse me, I didn’t-”

“You did,” Mahrzeleel said, his voice cool for the first time that meeting. Slowly, he straightened out, resting his hands against the arms of the chair. “And what you said is not wrong. I am all of those things. To think of it, I am most of the things that your religion and your morals condemn,” Mahrzeleel said simply. “So you can see why I would find it surprising that you are still sitting here entertaining me. Unless, of course, you have no  _ actual  _ intention of entertaining my courtship. You speak of your worries about my intentions towards you, and while I am certainly the one in power here, I am  _ very  _ aware of what danger you could pose to me in this situation.” 

The trail of bitterness on Mahrzeleel’s last words made Soleryn made her stomach sink. It almost sounded like he  _ expected  _ for that to be the outcome - that she was doing this to get to him. Something about that didn’t sit right with her. Soleryn swallowed as the lich leaned forward, plucking a grape from the fruit bowl. He turned it in his fingers idly as he leaned back, letting his other arm slouch across the arm of the chair again. 

“I know your party has done quite a bit of research on my name, but I can’t say that I’ve fully gathered what all you have read about me,” he mused, glancing to Soleryn. 

Soleryn could feel the tone shift, and the energy in the air shifted with it. The candle lights flickered and wavered with palpable tension, reminding Soleryn that Mahrzeleel could destroy her in an instant if he wanted to.

“You were a king at some point. A lich king, and you had a grand empire. You slaughtered thousands. Your undead army brought other kingdoms to their knees. You wanted to rule over everything. But you were stopped, and your kingdom collapsed, but you never gave up. People keep trying to stop you, but they’ve never been able to destroy you.” Soleryn’s voice fell quiet, not looking up.

Mahrzeleel nodded. “Vague, but all true enough. And you’re willing to still sit here despite that?”

Soleryn settled her hands nervously in her lap. “The things they said about you… about… using people’s souls. About using them to feed your phylactery. All the things you did to people to gain power… the… abominations you made with their bodies… what you did to villages…” Soleryn’s voice grew softer. “...are they true?”

The sound of electricity made Soleryn’s head snap up. The grape between Mahrzeleel’s fingers glowed a sickly green color for a moment, sparks of energy flickering around it, before it withered and turned to dust. Mahrzeleel did not look away from it. “I have done  _ terrible  _ things, Soleryn,” he said simply, rubbing his fingers together as the dust fell away before resting his hand back on the chair’s arm. Finally, the two made eye contact. “Far worse than any history book can remember - and far more than any history ever managed to record anyways.” He brought one hand up to rest under his chin, slouching back. The intensity of the fire in his skull sockets paralyzed Soleryn with fear. “I am every bit a monster history makes me out to be. I have killed far more people than you will ever meet in your life, and I have done unspeakable acts of horror in the name of power.” He tilted his head. “I can’t possibly imagine why a paladin like you would dare to entertain me.”

Soleryn didn’t know what to say. Dread washed over her, and for a moment she wanted to reel back and leave now. She couldn’t break eye contact with the lich. He was waiting for an answer. She needed to figure out an answer. She needed an answer for herself.

“Would you do it again?”

Mahrzeleel grinned, before suddenly breaking into a bellowing but haunting laughter that made Soleryn flinch back. He leaned forward, picking up the bottle of wine before using magic to take out the cork. She watched as he poured it into a goblet before sliding it towards her, shaking her head. “No. Could, yes. Would? No,” he chuckled, corking the bottle again before setting it down. Ignoring Soleryn’s look of disbelief, he continued as he idly picked a leaf that had fallen from overhead off of one of the pomegranates. “I made my grab at world domination and ultimate power millenia ago. And I did quite well, if I don’t say myself. Like every power-hungry and hellbent lich, I thought I would be the one to rule it all. Delusions of grandeur, and all that,” he said, waving his hand idly. “I thought I was  _ so close _ , but gods knew I was far from it. Oh, but I was  _ certain  _ of my destiny, of how  _ close  _ I had been when I lost it all. I spent a great deal of time after that trying to recreate my moment of fame, my  _ apotheosis _ ,” Mahrzeleel scoffed, resting his elbow against the chair’s arm before resting his knuckles against his temple. “In truth, I would never have made it then, and I certainly would never have made it the second or third or gods know how many times I tried. I would like to believe that I am far stronger than most ordinary megalomaniacal liches and wizards, but I’m far,  _ far  _ from whatever dream of great power I’ve pursued in the past. Over time I realized that no matter what I did, I was unlikely to achieve it. And, at this point, I had really little desire in doing so. Even in my seat of power, I garnered no joy in what I had achieved and obtained. My only goal and focus was on gaining  _ more.  _ I could not be happy until I had it all - and that is not a task that can be achieved, I’ve come to realize.” Mahrzeleel paused for a moment, looking Soleryn over thoughtfully. “In truth, these past few years - although they have gone by quickly for me - have been some of the most entertaining I’ve had across my long, long existence. No. I am a monster. I have done terrible things of which I cannot be redeemed, and I will not hide from the fact that I am capable of repeating them all at the drop of a pin - and I would, if it came to it, with little hesitation. But I have no desire in the power-driven, sadistic nature I once exhibited. I’ve made more than my fair share of grasps for power, and I am content now to simply be a nuisance for foolish adventurers by trying to see exactly how far I can get in regaining power before someone takes notice.”

Soleryn looked at the goblet. Her mind buzzed with questions and conflict. She picked it up, swirling the contents for a moment. “I can’t guarantee anything,” Soleryn said finally, lifting her gaze from the wine. 

Mahrzeleel relaxed back against the chair, a smile gracing his sunken features again. “My dear, I would never expect such.”

“This is… going to take time for me to understand,” she added.

“I have all the time in the world. You could too, if you wanted,” he replied, a sort of shine in his eyes.

Soleryn’s eyes grew heavy. “I’m not sure I could agree to such a thing.”  
Mahrzeleel chuckled sadly. “No, I wouldn’t think you would, but I imagine the offer will stand.”

“We’ll have to pretend that none of this is happening.”

“Mm, I suppose then I will have to figure out my plans on how to best inconvenience all of you next.” 

“And I will have to trust that you won’t use this as an excuse to scry on me more.”

“My dear, I have seen things you would be repulsed to know about while recklessly scrying you party. I assure you your privacy is yours.”

Soleryn paused, goblet at her lips. “Wait, what?”

“You don’t want to know what your wizard does when he has private time,” Mahrzeleel said idly, examining his nails.

Soleryn closed her eyes, setting her goblet down to cover her mouth and make a face. “No, I probably don’t.” She managed a nervous chuckle, looking down at the table. “...I… will give it my best though. To… honestly figure this out. I don’t fully know how I feel about this still, but… I know that I am not adverse to it. There are many,  _ many  _ differences between us, but I… I’m willing to try,” Soleryn managed, taking a deep breath before nodding.

“That is more than I could have ever asked for or expected,” Mahrzeleel replied quietly. “I cannot guarantee that I can wholly change from what I am - no, I  _ know  _ that I cannot - but… I will see what I can do. But I can assure you that I will never bring you to harm, nor will I bring harm to your companions and those around you if you do not ask of it. And I will not let you come to harm if I can help it.”

Soleryn finally took a sip of her wine. As she expected, it was the sort of wine she’d had only once before - and even then, this was better. Something old and something well made and cared for. She arched a brow at him, taking a moment to savor the taste. “You… won’t be interfering with our other missions, will you?”

Mahrzeleel shrugged. “Unlikely, but I have been keeping tabs on what your group has been doing. You’ve been making some powerful enemies. I won’t step in if I don’t have to, but be aware that I won’t let something terrible happen to you if I can stop it.”

“Do you think I need protecting?” Soleryn asked.

Mahrzeleel shook his head. “No. You are plenty capable of handling yourself,” he chuckled. “You’ve slain me before, after all. But that does not mean you are capable of handling  _ everything _ .” His face turned serious. “You do not need to be protected, but that does not mean that you are invulnerable. There are forces your party is dealing with that extend far outside your power - some even push what  _ I  _ could deal with. Unless you request it, I will not interfere unless your death is certain without it.”

Soleryn furrowed her brow. Already, he was willing to step in and save her from death. The concept felt surreal. She quickly took another much bigger sip of her wine. “I think I will have to save the discussion of that for another meeting,” she said, setting the goblet down before looking at the food. “I’ve… been a bad guest, if you brought all this for me to try.”

Mahrzeleel waved a hand dismissively. “We’ve had much more important conversations to discuss. Help yourself.”

Soleryn took a moment to grab a few things, carefully picking what to have. It felt strange for her to have so much fancy food to herself,  _ wrong  _ even, but she wasn’t going to nit pick at that now. He was being overly cautious, she figured. Maybe she could tell him to bring less next time, or something. She felt greedy and gluttonous otherwise. 

Mahrzeleel waited patiently, trying not to be too stiff and awkward while Soleryn grabbed some food. But, despite both of their efforts, the silence quickly became uncomfortable.

“So…” Soleryn began, wiping her face with a napkin after eating through a slab of meat. “You… don’t eat.”

Mahrzeleel cocked his head to the side, before shaking his head. “No, I’m afraid not. I’m undead - with few exceptions, we have no need or use for conventional sustenance.” 

Soleryn frowned, moving to peel apart a pomegranate. “Not even to enjoy it?”

He raised an eyebrow. “I cannot taste anything. If I were to eat anything here, it would simply fall into whatever remains of my stomach to rot. It would be quite unpleasant for all around, I imagine.”

Soleryn made a face. “Forgive me but, I thought some undead still ate food.”

“Vampires do,” Mahrzeleel replied. “But vampires tend to be the exception to many rules that govern the undead.”

“Do you miss it?”

Mahrzeleel hummed, picking another leaf off of the table. “Yes, and no. I do not miss the need to eat - the pangs of hunger, the feeling of not having eaten enough recently, the general need to consume to survive. But I will say I miss the taste of some foods,” he admitted. 

“Why didn’t you become a vampire instead then?”

“Being a vampire comes with its own strengths and weaknesses. I found that a vampire’s need for food, albeit a different source, to be a detriment I didn’t want to deal with. I was happy to exchange ‘eternal youth’ and the ability to taste for foregoing any of the weaknesses of life. The need to rest. The need to eat. The fundamental drives of the living body - or, I suppose, semi-living body in the case of vampires.” He stroked his beard again with a laugh. “Besides, I think I was well past the prime age to become a vampire.”

Soleryn tilted her head, popping a pomegranate seed into her mouth. “How… old  _ were  _ you when you… became a lich?” She eyed him. It was impossible to tell in his current state. Was the white hair and beard because he was millenia old? That was about all she had to go off of. The rest of his body was a skeleton shrink-wrapped with a layer of dusky, discolored skin that only  _ just  _ hid the sharpest angles - there was no way of telling his age based off of that. He could have been in his twenty’sfor all she knew, and time had just reduced him down to a shriveled husk. 

“Fifty-eight”

Soleryn almost inhaled the seed she was eating, covering her mouth as she coughed. Mahrzeleel watched unphased as she made a face at him amidst her coughing.  _ Fifty-eight?  _ The physical age that he became a lich was really moot at this stage, but it still caught her off guard.

__ “Are you alright?” Mahrzeleel questioned, though she could tell he was expecting her to make some remark about his… age? His physical age, or whatever they wanted to call it.

Soleryn nodded, wiping her mouth once she got things together. Taking a second to breathe, she scooted the remnants of the pomegranate husk aside with her fork. “I really didn’t have any idea how old you… well, I guess how old you physically had been. None of the accounts we found on you ever mentioned you when you were  _ alive _ , and I guess I never really thought about it.”

“It’s hardly relevant anymore,” Mahrzeleel chuckled, making Soleryn relax a little. “I doubt there’s much, if anything, on the time I was alive. And, in fairness, I did little worth noting while I was alive anyways. It wasn’t until after I became a lich that I gained my infamy and power.”

Soleryn nodded, picking a pastry she’d never seen before off of the stack. “That was a very long time ago, wasn’t it?”

She could see Mahrzeleel’s eyes soften into a diffuse glow. “A very long time ago.” 

Thoughtful silence fell between the two again, and this time it was Mahrzeleel who finally broke it.

“Forgive me if it is not my place to ask, especially at this stage, but I cannot help but question what your relationship with Alcred  _ is.  _ Am I to assume that you two are an item? Am I your paramour?” Mahrzeleel questioned almost teasingly, leaning forward to lace his fingers together and rest his chin on top of that.

Soleryn’s face darkened a bit. “No. Alcred…” She sighed and rubbed her face with her free hand. “I… I shouldn’t be discussing this with you like this, but… You know how Alcred is, even if you haven’t been scrying on us. He… has his own delusions of grandeur. And I guess I’m a part of that fantasy of his,” Soleryn said quietly, looking at the table. 

“And you let this happen?”

She pursed her lips. “At first, I was hoping it’d keep other people off of me if they thought we were together but…” Soleryn shrugged, examining her pastry sadly. “I don’t know. I don’t know what to say about it at this point.”

“You’re afraid of what he’ll do if you say something.”

Soleryn flicked her eyes up to the lich uncomfortably. The gut reaction to keep things private and away from someone who could use them against them flared up, gripping her heart with unease. 

Mahrzeleel shook his head, unlacing one hand to reach out to mess with the shape of one of the candle’s flames. “Forgive me. It is not my place to ask that. Not like this,” he said. 

Soleryn swallowed. “It’s alright. It… it’s relevant.” She closed her eyes. Regardless of the fact that their relationship, if pursued, would have to remain hidden, what was Soleryn’s status? How would Alcred be factored into this?

“It is a question that can be answered at a later date, when we are more sure of things,” Mahrzeleel said, snuffing the flame before leaning back. The two of them watched the smoke rise up into the canopy. “If you wish to return to town before nightfall, you should get going. I can delay the rain until you have made it back, if you would like,” Mahrzeleel finally said.

Soleryn took another bite of the pastry before nodding, looking down. Food still sat uneaten on the table, and the fact that she hadn’t eaten it made her stomach twist. There was no way she could have eaten all of it - and gods knew she didn’t  _ need  _ to - but it felt like a waste. “Could… could you find a use for this?” Soleryn asked, nervously motioning to the remainder of the food. “I would… feel terrible if it went to waste because I spent so much time talking. I would take it back to donate myself, but I… I don’t have any possible way to explain that.” It would look suspicious, and it would absolutely go noticed. 

Mahrzeleel tilted his head, before looking at the food. He paused. “I… I suppose I could try to find somewhere that could take it,” he said slowly. “I’m afraid I’m not… used… to doing such a thing, nor am I familiar with it, but… If that is what you would like, then I will make my best attempt to do so,” he said, bowing his head.

Soleryn gave him a faint smile. “Trying is all I can ask. I… this has been…” She nervously played with her hair again, “a lot nicer than what i’m used to. And… I appreciate it. But… I also don’t need…  _ this  _ much next time.”

Mahrzeleel’s eyes shimmered in their sockets with a certain mirth . “Of course.  _ Next time. _ ”

The lich seemed pleased with the concept that there would  _ be  _ a next time. 

Finally, Soleryn got up from her seat, donning the parts of her armor she’d removed. Maybe next time she would have to wear her full armor either. Mahrzeleel seemed to really, genuinely wish her no harm. She took one more grape before finally picking donning  _ Wordslayer  _ again. The holy blade glinted in the light of the candles, and Soleryn tried not to think about how her deity and church might feel about the interaction that just occured.

Mahrzeleel waited next to the stairs back to the courtyard. He offered his hand to Soleryn as she approached. Old fashioned, but after a pause she accepted. His thin fingers curled around the polished silver of her armor, leading her down the stairs to the courtyard ground below. Once they reached the last stair, the lich turned and bowed his head, lifting her hand to leave a chaste kiss against her knuckles. 

“Until next time, my dear Lady Dawnforge,” he said, a grin spreading across his lips before he withdrew.

Soleryn felt her heart jump at the motion. “U-until next time, Ash Sculptor,” Soleryn managed, her cheeks burning red. She bowed her head to him in return, before turning to walk back towards the castle gate.

She looked back once before the building finally slipped out of view. Mahrzeleel remained on the bottom step, his blue eyes glowing in the dim light as he waited for her to leave his sight. Something about it made her heart flutter, and with one more smile she raised her hand and gave him a wave before heading off.


End file.
